Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 161 - Chapitre 170

Violet’sThe jazz bar was dim, the kind of place where the lights were low and the music was slow enough to make you think. A soft saxophone cried somewhere in the background, its sound wrapping around the room like a memory you didn’t ask for but couldn’t escape.I sat alone at a small round table near the back, a half-empty glass of wine in front of me, untouched for the last ten minutes. I wasn’t really drinking. I was just… sitting.Thinking.Hurting.I had come here to breathe, to escape the noise of my thoughts, but instead, the quiet had made them louder. My phone sat face-down on the table. Sylvia had been texting me earlier, but I hadn’t replied. Not because I didn’t care, because I didn’t want to lie and say I was fine.Because I wasn’t.I stared into my glass, watching the light bend through the liquid, and wondered when my life had become so heavy without me noticing. I had been strong for everyone. For Sylvia. For Logan. For the whole mess with the Rhodes family. But some

Sylvia Victor showed up at my door just after sunrise, looking like a man who had fought a war in his sleep and lost.His eyes were red. His hair was a mess. His shirt was wrinkled like he had slept in it, or not slept at all. He stood there with his hands shoved deep into his pockets, shoulders slumped, looking nothing like the confident man he used to be.Logan opened the door."Victor?" Logan frowned. "What happened to you?"Victor let out a tired laugh. "Life."Logan stepped aside and let him in. I was already in the living room, leaning against Logan’s shoulder, coffee mug in hand, watching him walk in like a ghost of himself."Sit," I said.He didn’t. He started pacing instead, running a hand through his hair over and over again."I messed up, guys," Victor said finally, his voice rough. "Badly."Logan closed the door and leaned against it. "You look like you haven't slept.""I haven't," Victor admitted. "Every time I close my eyes, I see her. And every time I open them, I reme

Sylvia The restaurant was small, quiet, and warm, the kind of place where soft jazz hummed in the background and the lights were low enough to make everything feel gentler. It didn’t scream wealth or power. It whispered comfort. Safety. Normal.After everything we had been through, normal felt like a miracle.Logan and I arrived first. He held the door open for me, his hand resting lightly on the small of my back as we walked in, like he was afraid I might disappear if he let go. I caught his eye and smiled."You don’t have to hold me like I’m made of glass," I teased."I know," he said softly. "But I want to."That simple sentence warmed something deep inside my chest.We took a booth near the window. Outside, the city lights flickered, and inside, the air smelled of roasted garlic and fresh bread. For the first time in weeks, I wasn’t thinking about court documents, family secrets, or enemies in the shadows.I was thinking about food.Progress.A moment later, the door opened again

SylviaThe courtroom went dark.Not physically, the lights were still on, but emotionally. The air shifted. Every breath felt heavier. Every heartbeat louder. It felt as if the room itself had stepped into the shadow of something irreversible.On the massive screen behind the judge, a timestamp appeared:3:14 AM.The date matched the morning of Brody’s surgery.A low murmur rippled through the room, not confusion, but recognition. Everyone here knew what that time meant. Everyone knew what had happened hours later.The grainy security footage showed a hospital supply room.Quiet.Empty.Still.For a few seconds, nothing happened.No movement. No sound. No warning.Then a figure appeared.Clara.My nurse. My friend. My right hand.A collective gasp rippled through the courtroom, sharp and stunned, like a single breath sucked in by a hundred people at once.I felt Logan’s hand tighten against mine. His grip wasn’t just protective, it was grounding. Like he was holding me to this moment

SylviaEmily had ruled Rhodes Clinical like a monarch for decades.She was used to power.Used to control.Used to walking into rooms and watching people bow, figuratively or literally.She didn’t ask for respect.She demanded it.And people gave it to her, because she was ruthless, brilliant, and terrifyingly strategic.But today…Today, the throne cracked.The judge leaned forward, his voice calm but sharp, the kind of calm that comes right before destruction.“Mrs. Rhodes,” he said, “based on the testimony we have just heard, combined with the video evidence and financial records submitted, this court finds probable cause to proceed with charges.”Emily stood instantly, the movement sharp, defensive.“No,” she said. “This is absurd.”Her voice was firm, practiced, but there was something beneath it now. A tremor. A fracture.Her lawyer reached for her arm. “Emily….”She pulled away.“This is a witch hunt,” she snapped. “You’re all being manipulated. Kate is a liar. Sylvia is a frau